Lucky Number Ten
by BTRush
Summary: Ten short slash stories each chapter, multiple parings. Bunny/Dip/Style/Grestophe/Creek and other!
1. Chapter 1

_**1. Bunny-The Kiss.**_

He knew it was coming before it came. Butters sat beside him, grasping for words, so unsteady and confused, and he knew he'd kiss him then.

Butters, was not mistaken. His breath caught in his throat when Kenny did, because no matter how much he may have expected it, he could never have expected this. This feeling, that perhaps his heart would force its way out of his chest, that perhaps it would be okay. His head spun and his pulse raced, and he knew that if the moment lasted forever, it would still be ending too soon.

However, he was not granted forever. He was granted only a moment, and when it was finished, he felt the weight of reality crashing down on him. He felt a thousand things he knew he'd never be able to adequately explain with words, and he longed only to be kissing Kenny again.

And when Kenny's face changed from bliss to concern, Butters knew he was displaying these things openly, too openly, ruining such a perfect moment. He held back the tears as he tried to explain, spent the next hours trying, the worries, the confusion, the pure utter happiness.

Eventually, his thoughts slowed down. His worry ebbed away. His mind cleared, and he realized what he had experienced. _The Kiss._ He had been given what he'd wanted most for so long now, had been kissed by the best man he knew. By the man who, for some most unexplainable reason, wanted to kiss him. It was enough to boggle, true. But for a while the worry ceased, and he floated.

He floated every day after that, he floats even now, as his life continues to be filled to overflowing with the wonder Kenny brings. If Butters had known then what he feels now, there would have been no concern. Only love. As it should be.

_**2. Style-Crush**_

He moved his arm so it went across my back, the moment I'd been dreaming of was here. I said the words again although this time they came out quieter, and softer. "I can hear your heartbeat, again." I couldn't remember the last time I'd said something in that tone, the softly said words where very different from my usually way of speaking.

He moved his head, at that moment, my heart went faster. Was he kissing my head? I thought, or is he just? I didn't want to think about it. He lifted his head, and went back to where it was previously. I moved my head a little, so I wasn't burying my face in his shoulder.

Then, we broke from the hug, and stood there. I looked around no one had seen it happen, neither passer by, nor the friends we were with. I had so many things going through my head at that moment.

Stan and I didn't really speak for the rest of the lunch break. We were silent, which was odd, for me anyways, I would normally be yelling at Cartman. I sighed, was this all because I'd accidentally said 'well, why does everyone think he and I are going to kiss? I mean, even though I wan to kiss him,' when he was standing right next to me.

My mind had been on him for most of the day; well, why it wouldn't be. He was my boyfriend, after all. And my feelings for him were strong, the strongest feelings I'd ever had for someone. I wondered why, though, not because we were both guys, but because he, and I had been super best friends, right before I developed a _crush_ on him.

"And that's what happened." I said, shyly too Kenny and Butters. I knew it wasn't a big deal, though a long hug, and a sort of kiss on the head. I heard Kenny start speaking.

"Dude you have to get in there! Get your tongue in there!"

After that statement, I would have blushed, but instead I had a confused look on my face. "Uh, well you see… I was thinking, maybe I should go with what everyone's saying and you know… Take our relationship slowly."

Slowly, maybe that was what the relationship needed. That was it. I made up my mind. I was going to let the little relationship go at its own, I mean this was probably the most serious relationship I'd ever had. And it was also the first time I was going out with someone of the same gender. But then again, you can't help who you get a _crush_ on, can you?

_**3. Stendy-I'm Gay**_

"Wendy, we need to talk." Stan whispered, carefully placing his book on the small wooden table. Her eyes immediately darted toward his face, concern written all over them.

"What is it, Stan?" She asked quietly. He quickly glanced around the room, taking note of all the students laboring over their school work. A few of them wander through the maze of bookshelves, others typed away violently on their keyboards, completely unaware of the outside world. He earnestly hoped they wouldn't turn into witnesses.

"_I'm gay_," he blurted out. Wendy let out a few laughs, cool relief washing her face. "God, Stan. You really had me scared there. I thought you were going to break up with me." She released another chuckle, picked up her novel, and resumed her reading.

"Wendy, I am breaking up with you. I'm gay." She stared at him, eyes wild with confusion and fury. "WHAT?!" She shouted, her voice breaking the calm, concentrated quiet of the library. The typing ceased, the foot steps came to halt and every head jerked toward them. Somehow, the silence became more encumbering than before.

"Wendy," he whispered urgently. "It's not you, I'm gay."

"You're being serious?" Her voice was still a few volumes to high. "Yes, Wendy. I like guys."

"I don't believe you."

"Wendy, I'm not lying. I swear to God."

"What the fuck Stan! How can you be gay?"

"Um, I really don't know. It's not something that I can choose, you know."

"Are you sure? How can you be so sure?"

"It's been like this for a while, I just couldn't admit it to myself. I just noticed it when I started liking Kyle a few weeks ago."

"Oh god," she breathed. "What's wrong with me? Am I that bad of a girlfriend?"

"No, Wendy! You're perfect. I still love you, you know. But this is something that can't be helped."

Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes grew wet with emotion. He embraced her warmly, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

"I still love you too, you know, but this really sucks." She admitted between sniffles. "Can we at least stay friends?"

Stan smiled sweetly at her and squeezed her hand. "Anything for you, Wendy." He said.

_**4. **__**Grestophe-Bestfriends **_

I walked into my bedroom and sighed, wishing everything would just disappear. Sitting on my bed, I pulled out a sheet of blank computer paper and a pencil. I stared at the paper for a moment, wondering what to draw. I wasn't an artist, and I knew it. Most of my friends were blessed with the gift, but not me. But sometimes drawing was just a good way for me to get something out. Now, as I stared at the page, I realized I wanted to fall into it. The world inside the paper was so blank, void of feelings, void of anything. I couldn't ruin the beautiful void with a drawing. Setting the paper aside, I thought about what had happened.

Christophe and I had never hand an argument, at least not like this. One time, we stood at opposite ends of my front lawn for a while, blowing off steam, before forgiving each other without even an apology. That was probably when we were six. Another, and the only other time I remember, I hit him in the head with his own shovel. That one was resolved when we got bored and started throwing dirt at each other. We were twelve. But not this time, there would be no resolution this time. I had never left his house angry, and vice versa. We were best friends, partners. Until today.

I looked around the room, wishing for something that would cheer me up. I glanced at my bulletin board, no go. There was a picture of our sixth grade graduation tacked to it, along with a key chain he'd given me, which read, "_Meilleur Ami_."

I lunged for my remote, hoping that some stupid program or another could take my mind off the fight still raging in my mind. I flipped through channels, until Cartoon Network popped up, and saw that Pokemon was on. Ew, I thought. It wasn't that I didn't like the show, it was that I hadn't watched it since I was about seven. But as I was about to flip the channel, I saw that it was an old episode. It had come out when I was about five or six. The episode that had something to do with this lady who turned to stone after waiting for her lover at sea to come back for her. To put it short, Brock was taken under the spell of some ghost Pokemon, and when he awoke, his first words were. "Huh? Who am I? I am Brock. Hmph." The hmph was as he was nodding, as if confirming to himself that he was Brock.

I remembered when I was little I watched that episode with Christophe. That night, he slept over my house. We were little, and quoting that episode seemed so fun at the time. We stayed up all night that night, saying stupid things like, "Huh? Who am I? I am lamp post. Hmph." I couldn't even remember how many variations there had been. It's funny, I thought as I tried to remember what I had for breakfast that morning. I can't remember my last meal, but I can remember something from years ago. I knew it was because it was a wonderful memory of having fun with my French best friend. My _best friend_, not anymore.

Tears began to stream down my face. I don't know how long I was sitting there. I listened to music, I read a little, but nothing could keep my mind off of things. My wallowing was interrupted by my cell phone ringing. Instinctively, I picked it up checking the caller ID. The call was coming from Christophe's house. He must be calling to apologize, though I doubt it. I had started the argument, and I would be the one to apologize, when I was ready. I answered anyways.

"Hello?" I asked in a normal tone.

"Bonjour Gregory, eet es _Miss_. DeLorn." The voice on the other side said.

"Hi, Miss. DeLorn." I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. It was Christophe's mother.

"You left your jacket 'ere." She said, but I hardly heard here.

"Oh, thanks, I guess I'll pick it up in a few minutes. Miss. DeLorn? Can you tell Christophe I'm really, really sorry?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course Gregory." Her voice sounded so reassuring. I hung up and put my shoes on, ready to go get my jacket. I just prayed to the god Christophe hated so much everything would be alright.

_**5. Creek-Too Much Pressure **_

It was a cold morning, wind howling through the streets of South Park as people buzzed around the city, people chattering and laughing to one another as they walked into shops they adored. A young boy sat outside his parent's coffee shop typing away nervously at his laptop before taking a sip from his hot beverage.

He glanced around worriedly at all the surroundings of South Park before looking down once more at the screen in front of him. Sighing he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples before leaning forward, and continuing to type furiously.

He stopped to pick up his beverage and took a deep sip, jumping at the touch of the coldness it had become in the short period of time. He cursed himself before closing his laptop and standing up. His chair screeched on the pavement making him jump again as he felt somebody bump into the metal chair before swearing again.

He turned around his messy blonde hair covering a bit of his face, as his jaw dropped. "Ah! I'm sorry." He said as his eye twitched.

"It's okay, you didn't realize I was behind you." His said as his blue eyes raked over his body.

"I'll buy you AH- another coffee." He replied. "My treat?" He shrugged and smiled, "You twisted my arm, Clyde will be mad if I don't bring his coffee back, if you don't mind?" Tweek smiled. "Ah! It's only coffee." He couldn't believe what he just said, but for some reason he wanted to sound cool in front of the other man.

"I'm Craig." He replied wiping his hands on his jeans before holding his right hand out for Tweek to shake. "Tweek," He replied smiling, their gaze stayed on each other for what seemed like eternity before looking down at their feet.

Tweek grabbed his laptop and looked back at Craig smiling. They walked back into his parent's shop and waited in line.

"What can I get you Tweek?" Richard asked his son as Tweek looked down to see how many coffees Craig was carrying.

"AH! Um can I have five coffees dad?" He said, including himself. The pair stayed quiet for a minute before Craig moved over to the bin and emptied the paper tray out as Richard handed Tweek the coffees.

"Thanks." Tweek and Craig said in unison and Tweek handed Craig the tray.

"I better go its nice meeting you." Craig said as a brown haired boy walked into the coffee shop smiling at Craig. "Ready?" Clyde asked as Craig nodded. "Yeah." Craig replied walking over to Clyde before turning back to Tweek. "Here's my number, call me." Tweek smiled feeling him self turn red. "AH! Thanks! Ah!"

"Bye." Craig replied smiling as Tweek blushed. Tweek gulped watching Craig walk out of the shop. "_Ah! Too Much Pressure!_" 

_**6. Dip-Dance With The Devil's Son**_

There was something about Damien that unnerved Pip, but at the same time, he was captivated by the Anti-Christ. He was gorgeous when ever he moved, in those somehow graceful movements. He was raw, wild fury, unafraid to lash out at those who even dared to glance at Pip wrong. Sometimes he almost forgot that Damien was only his friend instead of something more.

He knew that Damien had feelings for him, even though he never told Pip. He could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at him. And it made Pip ecstatic.

Pip wanted him as much as he wanted Pip. Every time his fingertips would accidentally brush against Pip's arm, his hand, his skin, he would feel a rush of lust and passion. He yarned for Damien's touch, for his kisses.

He was trapped, trapped in a slow, agonizing _dance with the devil's son_ and nothing could save him.

_**7. **__**Craimas-Time And Space **_

Thomas lazily threw clothing into the washer, the water filling fast. He was bored, and had pressed Large Load instead of Small Load. There was a stain on one shirt. As Thomas struggled to get the shout out of the empty bottle, Craig nearly laughed out loud. He couldn't let Thomas see him, yet.

He was flirting with the blonde at lunch, and he went to hold his hand for the first time. Instead, he had ended up knocking over his Dr. Pepper.

"Shit! Cock! Fuck" Thomas repeated every ten seconds; he had got out the detergent and turned around. "Hey Thomas," Craig said, and he screamed. "SHIT!" Once more, whacking the open bottle of detergent into the washer. "FUCK!" He said when he realized.

"Well, fish it out." Craig said jokingly. It was too late the washer was overflowing with suds. Craig though for a moment, 'This is a dream moment. I love the laundry scenes in movies. I thought they were fiction!' They both moved to clean up, and fell, toppling on top of each other.

"FUCK!" Thomas and Craig both laughed, rolling around in the bubbles. Then as the bubbles reached their waist, they leaned side by side against the wall and slit to the floor.

Craig leaned in far and paused, Thomas leaned in barely, and Craig kissed him quickly. They both pulled away, standing up they started at the floor. Then they began to crack up and Craig began the make out session. Thomas melted into the kisses, not even breaking for his tourette spells. They rolled on the floor, and their clothing magically disappeared.

After painful and amazing sex, Thomas face was past it's normal peach, it was past magenta and red. It was dark, out of embarrassment, worry, laughter, and utter confusion. He realized the truth.

He wanted to remain a virgin. Craig began to kiss the blonde again, but he pulled away, and most of the bubbles were gone. Craig was kind, gentle, funny and his. But he needed space, and time. _Time and Space_. He'd understand hopefully.

_**8. Kyutters-Maple Syrup**_

"I HATE YOU CARTMAN!" I roared. Blood rushed to my face, and I resembled a steaming red tomato. Cartman looked like he was about to laugh, and this only made me hate him more. How dare he! That fatass!

A swarm of students were gathering around our lunch table to view the entertainment. It was rare to see me this animated. A few people whipped out cell phones, snapping still shots of the spectacle evidence that would later haunt me on Myspace.

From my aerial view, I could see a tiny blond head, pushing its way through the mob. Butters. Elbowing, kicking, and biting his way towards the front of the crowd.

Syrup bottle suspended in mid-air, I was halfway in the process of dumping its contents on Cartman's fat head, when a delicate hand gently clasped mine. I whipped around, intending to fling the intruder off the table, but thought otherwise when I realized that it was Butters.

"What do you want?" I spat, irritation reeking off my body like raw meat. His baby blue eyes bore into mine, and he placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Kyle." He said quietly, focusing on me with more intensity than I had ever seen him exhibit. "You need to calm down."

White. Black. Flash. Dead.

But I couldn't be dead. I smelled pancakes. Do they have pancakes in heaven? Rubbing my eyes, I tore the layers of blankets off my body and glanced at the clock. 5:00 A.M. Everyone was asleep, yet the scent of sugary pancakes still managed to infiltrate my nostrils. Maybe on of my family members made a late night snack.

My head buzzed, and everything seemed to throb. The red clock light pulsated, blurring my vision. Dizzy, I laid my weighted head on my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.

That's when I felt it. A hard bulge protruded through my pillow, stabbing the side of my ear. Sliding my hand beneath the pillow, I grasped the foreign, lumpy plastic.

Even in the darkness, the object was easily recognizable. It was a half-filled bottle of _maple syrup_.

_**9. Grestophe-Goodbye **_

Mole knelt to the ground under the tree and placed Gregory's lifeless body in his lap. He ran his hand through his hair in despair and rocked back and forth grasping his love with all his might. He tried hard not to cry, but nothing could stop his tears with his knowing that his friend had been murdered,

Christophe began stroking the back of Gregory's neck while keeping his head tilted up toward the withering branches so he didn't have to see of his gruesome condition. He kept rocking knowing he'd have to look at Gregory, but looking at him would only upset him even more.

He clinched Gregory even tighter and finally peered down to him, but choked immediately when he saw what had happened to him. His entire face had been mangled by the bullet leaving nothing but open flesh and one limp eye. He continued to stroke the back of his neck while he leaned down to kiss him, and when he did, one lowly teardrop fell from his cheek and splattered on top of Gregory's cold nose.

He kept staring at him knowing he was finally in peace and he blinked while he watched his lifeless body, but chills suddenly ran up Mole's spin as he focused in on his eye. With all his strength, he looked up at Christophe with that loving stare Gregory had always given him. He watched him closely as the mercenary watched him, and while he couldn't do anything to help him, he leaned in and kissed Gregory once more and watched a small bloodied tear formed at the corner of the blonde's eye.

He began to weep and pressed his face into Gregory's orange dress shirt, and sat in peace and harmony against the tree clinching his friend close for at least a hour until the sun began to set and goose bumps ran up his skin from the cold breeze of winter. Once more he stared at him, and then placed him on the dirt under the swing. He got up and grabbed the cold handle of the shovel knowing there was nothing left to do but say _goodbye_.

_**10. Style-Nicest Ass**_

I'm not going to lie the first thing I noticed about him wasn't his smile or his demeanor, or anything like that. I mean, he was nice and smiling and all that. I could not, for the life of me, stop looking at his ass.

Of course, I actually tore my eyes away from that in embarrassment and hope he hadn't felt the weight of my eyes on him. How embarrassing would that be? "Hey dude, it's your second day here and I'm not weird or anything but you have the _nicest ass_." Yeah, that wouldn't be weird at all.

I didn't really talk to him much, and I kind of hope he doesn't think I don't like him. I doubt he cares, or even notices that I don't talk to him much, we rarely have any of the same classes. I see him smile, I smile, he smiles and my heart skips a beat. I go home and try to sleep and I think about him, about holding him and leaving trails of kisses and talking to him about little nothings. I think, I feel, I want to protect him.

I try to talk to him and my mouth glues itself shut. He is beautiful, his red jewfro, green eyes, everything, eventually I un-jam my lips enough to ask why he transferred here.

Because I'm confused, my heart's all a flutter, and this has never happened before. I don't know if it's him, or me, or what. So I keep my mouth shut and make mental notes to look things up later. And I certainly don't say anything to him.

No sense in making things awkward if I myself don't understand these things, especially since he's bound not to like me.

I'm a boy, after all, and he's got a girl friend, I've heard him say it, and I nod while I feel a little piece of me fall away at the unintentional rejection.

It's not love, it's infatuation I have with him, I can not help but smile around him. I barely even know him.

It doesn't feel so harmless, this crush. I'm not ashamed, but I'm afraid to say anything until I'm sure that this is really how I am. Silly to think we can change certain things about ourselves. But in my mind I think it's over and over, in thunderous tones.

I find myself wishing it was later in the year, so school would be over and I would go on vacation with my family where maybe I can understand why I can't take my eyes of Kyle. But for now I am to close to home, to uncertain of this to be able to open my mouth and say it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**11. Style-Grant**_

"Stan, close your eyes. I have a surprise for you." Kyle said to his husband.

It was his birthday, and Kyle had what he thought was the perfect gift. The couple had been trying to adopt a baby for some time now, but another family had always been picked. Or so Stan thought. Kyle had secretly gotten a yes from a lady in San Francisco. It was a baby boy named _Grant_, and he was about three weeks old. Kyle had been out there on business, and had swung by the hospital to pick him up. He had been staying with Kyle's parents so that he could surprise Stan on his birthday.

Kyle left the room and went to the room he had made the baby's, thankfully Stan hadn't noticed. He took Grant out of his crib and brought him downstairs.

"Okay, Stan, open your eyes!" Kyle said eagerly.

"Dude! Kyle… He's beautiful! Who… How? Oh, I won't even ask!" He laughed. Kyle put baby Grant down in Stan's face. Stan gave the baby back to Kyle so he could look at him. He really was cute. Stan bent down to give Grant a kiss, but right when their lip collided, Grant opened up his mouth and spit up on Stan's face. Kyle laughed and handed Stan a towel.

"Well, he's going to be a handful, isn't he?" Stan joked when his face was clean. "But we're up to it, right?"

"Of course, we can raise him together. We're a family."

Kyle kissed Stan on the forehead and he then went up to shower.

_**12. Dip-Coal**_

I held him close to me, staring into his massive red eyes, so much like Damien's so breathtakingly beautiful. "You're going to grow up to become the handsomest boy ever." I cooed into his face, nuzzling his nose against mine. "I could just eat you up." He made a grab for my lips, swatting at them with his pudgy little hands.

"Please don't eat him; I would miss him something terrible." I laughed and shifted so Damien could sit next to me on the couch. Immediately, I made a face, but grinned at Damien. "You smell like a dumpster, what have you been doing?" He grumbled, leaning back into the sofa and reaching for the remote, which I deftly plucked out of his fingers.

"Oh no you don't, we're going to have plenty of TV time later tonight without staring now." I threw it halfway across the room, where it landed with a mocking thump on the carpet.

"Pip, come on! I've been working since seven this morning, cooking, cleaning, mowing, dusting, vacuuming, washing, and preparing, while you've been sitting here drooling over_ Coal_! Don't you think the least I could get in payment would be five minutes of television?" The Anti-Christ stretched, laying his feet on the coffee table.

"Well Damien, now you know exactly how I feel every day!" I cheered brightly. "And nice try, anyway we're not doing this for just any reason. I mean it's the first time our friends get to see him!" I looked down again at the brilliant red eyes roaming the room curiously, his mouth forming a cute little o. The doorbell rang, and Damien groaned. "Here I go, spawn of Satan, playing Mr. Servant for the day." I rolled my eyes.

"Damien wait!" I suddenly screamed. He whirled around, alarmed. "What? Are you okay?" I smiled at him. "I love you."

"The things I do for love." He sighed.

_**13. **__**Grestophe-**__**Orange**_

"Christophe, darling, how come you never allow me to go on missions with you?" I wrapped my arms around my French mercenary's neck and looked up into his dark eyes. Oh how I loved the moody killing machine.

"Gregory, I 'ave told you before, you are ze brains of ze operation." He kissed me chastely on the lips. "There es no need for you to come wiz me." He added, freeing himself from my arms.

I couldn't help but feel a bit discouraged, he had let that Jewish boy Kyle go with him many time, but always refused to let me.

"Darling, is it because you don't want me to get hurt?" I asked, pulling him back into my embrace. He should know better that I wasn't a delicate flower and I wouldn't break so easily. I had taken martial arts as a child so I knew how to fight well, and I was very skilled when it came to using a gun.

"Non mon amour, eet es because you wear ze color _orange_."

_**14. Bunny- It's Not Even Scary**_

Kenny was well prepared.

He consulted with Stan, take Butters to the movies, and pick the scariest one you can. When he gets distracted, yawn and put your arm around the back of his chair. When he gets scared and leans into you, wrap your arm around him, so he can settle against your side.

Kenny tried playing it cool, Butters was after all, a so fuckable. He arrived six minutes late, as planned and Butters ran through the rain from the front door to his truck, and hopped in.

They chatted aimlessly on the way to the movie, but his mind was in other, less honorable places.

They arrived, and he didn't even bother to look up to see what was playing, repeating the name of what was supposed to be the most horrifying horror movie playing.

Kenny smiled, taking the tickets and leading Butters to the concession stand, buying an overpriced popcorn and drink.

He led him to the right theater, scanning the seats for the best one, as the previews began playing.

They munched on the popcorn a bit, occasionally both taking sips from the drink. He would pretend it was an accident when he grabbed Butters hand in the popcorn bag, as he blushed.

Finally, the movie started, and he grew excited. He smiled victoriously.

As promised, the movie was a total bloodbath from start to finish. He hardly noticed that Butters wasn't even fazed by any of it.

About halfway through, the anxiety causing music started up, and Kenny could sense a climax approaching. He yawned, stretching his arm out… Closer… Closer… and…

"Oh golly, are you tired Ken? Let's go home, this movie sucks. Why did you pick this stupid movie anyways? _It's not even scary_."

_**15. **__**Grestophe**__**-Je Suis Désolé**_

What if I told you there was a time when Christophe trusted mankind? Would you believe me? Or what if I told you he believed people could change for the better? Or what if I told you he actually loved people purely with his heart and soul? Would you believe any of it?

I didn't blame Christophe for becoming what he did; I fully and thoroughly blamed his mother. His mother was the reason my best friend turned out the way he did. Christophe was sweet, and he cared about people, but his mother destroyed that. She took Christophe's beautiful spirit and she stabbed it. She ripped it to pieces then left it.

I loved Christophe, everything from his name to his fiery personality. It tore my heart in two to have him show up on my doorstep in tears, covered in bruises, scars and own human blood. His mother, his drunken mother, did that to him, all of it.

Christophe was arrested for the first time at sixteen, for what I can't even remember anymore. The look on his face when he was forcefully shoved into the police car was undeniable. I could read every emotion his eyes held, and I knew it wasn't his fault.

I would have paid the bail earlier, but my family was against it. I earned my own money so they wouldn't know; I saved every penny I had while Christophe sat in a jail cell, cold and utterly alone. Did his mother pay any of the bail? I don't think I need to answer that. His mother didn't care if he was in jail, she rather him be dead.

When Christophe was finally released, he was different. Suddenly, Christophe was real, so real that he scared me.

He was killed to death on our last mission together, by guard dogs, he deserved so much better. That night, watching him die on our mission it changed me. For the worse or best, I still don't know.

As I sat down on the rough, cold pavement outside I held his hand and cried until the ambulance and police showed up. Christophe held on for a long time, his eyes for once in many years, had tears in them.

"Gregory." His voice was rough. "_Je suis désolé._"

"For what?" My voice cracked, I couldn't seem to hide any tears.

"Evertheeng." He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He opened them again and stared at me. "Gregory." I opened my own eyes and looked down at him. "You were ze only theeng I ever loved."

"I love you too, Christophe. Always will." I promised, he nodded, and then his hand slipped from mine.

They say that when people are dead they look innocent and peaceful. But Christophe didn't, not to me. He looked like a candle without a flame. He was empty and more alone than ever before.

_**16. Style-Why Her And Not Me**_

A silent agreement passed between us, that once our laughter dies, our bottles are emptied and are head's feel fuzzy as the alcohol pumps through are blood stream, no one will know what happened tonight.

Six months of long painful disciplining of the heart are swept away with one kiss. I decided long ago that he's a drug, my drug. I push him away and we recite the words we've said one hundred times before.

We shouldn't, he knows. He has a fiancé, not tonight. I have a girlfriend, he knows. He's messing with my heart again, he's sorry. We'll regret it in the morning, he won't.

"I love you Stan." I tell him, just like every other time I tell him. Fully expecting him to ignore the declaration and crash his lips back to mine. When his palms cup my cheeks, I force my eyelids to open, green meets blue and he is smiling, he repeats the words back to me.

Gods, how much did we drink tonight?

So many questions, but one is painfully screaming for an answer. Why Wendy? _Why her and not me_? My tongue runs across my bottom lip and I nod my head. I don't ask the answer to painful to hear.

"Okay dude." I believe him, like a fool I believe.

And then, he kisses me again.

_**17. Creek-Voice**_

With a sigh, Tweek closed his laptop and returned it to the table; he had been trying to sleep for the day ahead of him. It seemed, that thoughts of someone, was keeping him awake. He emitted another sigh and positioned himself to try to fall asleep again. Tweek found himself drifting away to sleep until a shrill ringing made him jump back into reality. "AH!" He screamed reaching for his nightstand surface for his cell phone. As he held the phone to his ear, he tried his best not to drop it, but had no such luck.

"Oh, were you asleep? I thought you'd still be awake since you've have insomnia." said the voice coming from the cell phone. Tweek knew who it was, Craig. He had his voice memorized in his head, heart and soul.

"Tweekers? You there?" asked Craig. As much as he hated being called by that nickname, coming from Craig, it made his heart jump in his body.

"AH- I told you not to call me that," said Tweek. "and believe it AH- or not, I was about to fall asleep."

"Well, Tweekers, I think you passed your insomnia to me because now I can't fall asleep. So, you need to pay for it by staying up with me."

"Craig," Tweek cried, "It's three in the AH- morning!" Not that Tweek really minded, he would stay on the phone with the brunette all night just to hear his _voice_.

_**18. Kyutters-Thanks**_

Parking the car, Kyle got out and ran up the driveway, not even bothering to lock the car. He ran to the house and pounded on the door. There was rumbling inside before the door opened, revealing a rather short blonde. His face brightened when he saw who was at the door. "Kyle, I-" Immediately, Butter's sentence stopped and he trailed off, noticing the look on Kyle's face. "Kyle, what's wrong lil fella?" He asked in alarm.

The red head suppressed another sob, wiping the tears from his eyes. "It's Cartman!" He cried, "He dumped me!"

The blonde looked trouble. "Oh hamburgers!" Butter's cried. "Oh come in we'll sort this out!"

Kyle, stepped inside, and made his way over to the couch, when he collapsed into tears. Butters took a seat next to him, rubbing his back encouragingly. "Oh golly take it slow," he said softly. "What happened?"

Kyle took a calming breath, "We were just talking, and he said, 'I don't think you're the one for me!' he dumped me!" Kyle cried, accepting a tissue Butters handed him and drying his tears.

"That's ridiculous!" Butters said furiously. "Prom is in two days!"

"I know," Kyle choked out. "And there's no way I'll be able to get a date in time. I think I'll stay home."

"Oh Jesus! Don't do that!" Butters cried. "Look, you've been waiting for this for a long time. Come to the prom, I'll be your date."

"But you have a date," Kyle pointed out. "What will Kenny think?"

Butters shrugged. "Ken's a good guy, he'll understand."

Kyle forced a smile. "_Thanks_."

_**19. Style-Heaven On Earth **_

"I never should have come to this stupid prom in the first place." Kyle grumbled, leaning against the wall. Butters and Kenny were off dancing in each other's arms, and Kyle hated it. He wanted to go home, but Kenny was his ride.

"So much for prom being fun," he mumbled, scuffing the ground with his shoe.

"Well, it's supposed to be." Kyle nearly jumped five feet in the air, and flipped around, coming face to face with Stan. He placed a hand over his chest, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

"Stan!" Kyle cried. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "It's prom, aren't we all suppose to go to prom?" he asked.

Kyle leaned back against the wall, next to his super best friend. They had been friends for as long as both of them could remember, and enjoyed each other company very much.

"Where's Wendy?" Kyle asked.

Stan shrugged. "How should I know, probably off dancing with Token?"

Kyle shot him a confused look.

"We broke up last week." Stan explained.

Kyle nodded in understanding. "Do you have a date?" He asked with a small quirk in his voice. He shook his head in response. "I see," Kyle said, and then it was silent. The slow song ended and another followed.

Stan sighed. "Do you want to dance?" He blurted out.

Kyle had to blink, before he smiled. "Sure." And then he led him out to the dance floor, and it was like Kyle had been whisked away on a cloud. Despite Stan being his super best friend, Kyle had the hugest crush on him for a number of years.

It was _heaven on earth_.

_**20. Grestophe-This Isn't Working**_

"Well fuck you zen!" he screamed at Gregory, storming out of the house and slamming the door behind him. A picture of the two framed and hung on the wall, wobbled and fell onto the floor with a sickening smash of glass.

The cold night air bit at Christophe's arm, and he wished he'd thought to bring a jacket. But then again, one doesn't think when one is storming out of a house after an argument with their boyfriend. He dithered on the porch for a moment, then stayed where he was, and with fingers shaking from the cold, lit his eighteenth cigarette of the day. He sucked in and felt that strange calmness once again fill his mind. He was still shaking though, and he paced the porch, trying to warm himself up.

As Gregory opened the door, he felt a rush of cool air, smelt the fresh scent of rain soaked grass, and sow the orange tip of Christophe's cigarette. The tendrils of smoke spiraled up into the evening sky as he held the cigarette loosely in his hand. He walked closer and brushed the smoke out of the air, then reach out to touch the French man's hand. Gregory felt a shiver run through his body and looked down at his bare arms, they were covered with goose bumps.

"I'm sorry," Gregory said.

Christophe turned from Gregory and dragged on his cigarette. The blonde watched the smoke blur as tears sprang to his eyes.

The cigarette dropped to the floor. He stamped it out with his foot, then without turning around he said. "_This isn't working_, mon amour."

Gregory felt hot tears pour down his cheeks.

Christophe walked down the steps, got in his car and drove away. Gregory watched until Christophe turned the corner, until the sound of his engine was lost in the quiet sounds of birds calling.


End file.
